


Archangels

by Sunyiu2



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: BAMF Lestrade, BAMF Mycroft, M/M, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 12:10:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2580953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunyiu2/pseuds/Sunyiu2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a reason why Lestrade became a police officer</p>
            </blockquote>





	Archangels

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote it several moths ago. It is one of my first works, so be gentle with me.  
> Now it is beta'd. Many thanks to a lovely Pam for it. You are a gem, dear.  
> Every feedback is welcomed.

 

“Can I ask you something Lestrade?” They were sitting in Lestrade’s office. Greg was on his third glass of whiskey and Sherlock was on his second; celebrating little for closing their first really big case.

“Sure, why not.”

“Why did you join the police force?”

“I know you know already. Why are you asking?”

“I’m curious.”

“Right. Truth is, I joined because my boyfriend died. Michael and I met on the job. I’d quit after he… after it happened and I went to the academy.”

“And why are you still alone? That was nearly fifteen years ago.”

Greg rolled his eyes, huffed, and took a deep breath. “Sherlock, I know you don’t understand sentiment and the emotional stuff; that’s why I’m not angry with you. And I’ll tell you because I’m a little bit tipsy. I’m still single because I love him.” Greg paused to collect himself. When he thought his voice might tremble less, he continued. “I love him and probably I will love him until I die. He was the one. He was my better half. We completed each other.” He took a sip.   “After Michael died, I had nothing. I almost killed myself, but I didn’t because I remembered what he was like what he thought about duty. So instead, I joined Scotland Yard, because I couldn’t work there anymore without him.” 

“But your wedding ring?”

“I bought this for Michael. The day before he died.”      

“I see.”

 

 

 

Sherlock was in the hospital again. He was hit by a delivery van as he ran through the city chasing a suspect by himself. As usual, he didn’t wait for Lestrade or back up.

“Sherlock, why are you incapable waiting a few minutes for me?” Lestrade stormed in Sherlock’s room. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t know…” he trailed off when the man next to Sherlock’s bed turned around to face to him. Lestrade paled and froze in his spot. He reached out and poked the man’s chest. The man was as pale as Greg, and when Greg poked him he swayed back a bit. Greg whined and fainted.

“What the hell?” demanded Sherlock while the other man just stared at the space where Greg’s face had been a moment before. Sherlock recovered and called for the nurses. They immediately lifted Greg up to the empty bed next to Sherlock’s and waited for the doctor.

“He’s in shock. What happened?” asked the doctor when Greg woke up.

“I don’t know. He came in, shouted at me as usual, and when he looked at my brother he poked him and fainted. Mycroft what have you done to him?”

“No, no he’s dead. No, no, no Michael is dead. He’s not real.” Greg repeated over again and again; he sat on the bed, hugging his knees hard against his chest and rocking back and forth.

“Did he say Michael?” Asked Sherlock

“Yeah I think so,” answered on of the nurses.

“Mycroft, why did he call you Michael?”

Mycroft, who had just realized what happened, blinked a few times and crouched next to Greg’s bed.

“Gabriel, I am real. I am not dead.”

“You died when the café blew up. I saw it.”

“No. You died. I think… they told me you died when the bomb went off. You and Rafael both.”

“No. You’re not here… You’re in my head.”

 “No. I am real. I did not die.  

“But, but they told me you and Rafael… the bomb… No. You’re dead, you’re not here.”

“Gabriel. I’m real. I swear to you. I was in the building when it blew up.  I was in hospital for a month. They told me I was lucky to be alive. I’ve got shrapnel in my leg still, but I did not die. I swear, Love.”

“Michael?” Greg chocked out.

“Yeah dear, I’m here.” Greg reached out to Mycroft, and was pulled down into an embrace. They knelt between the two beds, hugging. They pulled back after a few minutes, and stared into each other’s eyes; disbelief, wonder, and joy shining in their faces.

The doctor measured the situation and made a decision. “We are leaving if you’re alright Mr. Lestrade.”

“Yeah, thanks doc.” He answered not looking up from Mycroft eyes, not even for a second. The doctor and the nurses left the room. “And Rafael? If you and I made it he…”

“He didn’t make it, Gabriel.”

“It’s Greg actually. Greg Lestrade”

“Mycroft Holmes.”

“Holmes?”

“Yes. Sherlock is my baby brother.”

“He’s Lockie?”

“Yes. He is Lockie.” Mycroft smiled when he heard Greg remember his little brother.

“Wait a minute. You’re the boyfriend who died a day after he bought a ring?”

“You brought a ring?” asked Mycroft disbelievingly

“Sherlock!”

“No, you told me you became a police officer because your boyfriend died and you had bought him a ring the day before it happened.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you have to tell him.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, ‘Oh’.”

“Why are you calling each… Wait! Gabriel, Michael and Rafael? You’re the Archangel Troops? It’s brilliant. The most successful spy-group in British history after the World War II? The group that accomplished every mission, even the most dangerous and impossible ones, and always left behind a picture of the Archangels? You are legends!”

“No we…”

“That’s why they disappeared?”

“Leave it Gab… Gregory, he wouldn't anyway. Yes Sherlock. But, we were not on a mission that day; we just went to a café. There was an accident, a gas explosion. Gabriel had just arrived when the kitchen blew up and the little house collapsed.”

“I flew out of the glass window. I was unconscious for half a day. When I woke up in the hospital they told me everyone inside was dead; you, Rafael and all the guests.”  Greg caressed Mycroft’s jaw as he spoke, just as he used to a long time ago.

“They told me the same. So. You bought me a ring?”

“Oh yes. I was planning a proposal, but you… the café.”

“I was planning one too. I bought yours weeks before the café.”

“Oh I see. That’s why they told you the other one was dead.” The two looked up at Sherlock in confusion. “They took advantage of the explosion. They didn’t want you two to be together.” He pointed at his brother “You, Mycroft, became the British Government because of your grief.” Then turned to Greg, “You quit for the same reason. They wouldn’t allow you to go on a new mission anyway, after you almost killed yourself; it was the easiest path for them.”

“Sherlock, what did I tell you…”

“You did what?!” Mycroft took Greg’s hand, threading their fingers together, and squeezing.

“I didn’t do anything. I wanted to but I didn’t; not when I thought of you and what we had. I just couldn’t do it.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Yeah, me too.” They stared each other for a bit completely ignoring Sherlock as he tirelessly fired questions about their missions, and why he didn’t see it in Lestrade, and so on.

“Miche… Mycroft, would you like to go out with me on a date?”

“I’d love to Gregory.”


End file.
